


V'Day Mayday

by becisvolatile



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Steve/Darcy Valentine's Day Exchange Fic, Who let Bec write fluff, puppies!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3269129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becisvolatile/pseuds/becisvolatile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was shaping up to be a crap-tastic day for so many reasons, the least being that she was single for yet another Valentine’s Day. Actually, years of conditioning had left her very much down with the prospect spending her evening romancing a Lean Cuisine and a bottle of merlot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	V'Day Mayday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nessismore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nessismore/gifts).



> Written for the Steve/Darcy 2015 Valentine's Fic Exchange, nessismore asked for "Cupid/matchmaker pov fic where they're trying to get Darcy and Steve together. Or something."
> 
> And that's what she's gonna get.
> 
> Or something.
> 
> Huge thanks to lafemmeavecunchapeaurouge for the speedy beta and to typhoidmeri for riding shotgun once more…

“…and everything is in place?” Natasha scanned the group of men, eyes seeking out ticks or evasions that might indicate that they could not fulfil the mission. An air of fractured energy shuddered around them. The men were nervous. So was she. Sure, she’d acted out of turn before - specialized in it - but this was the first time they had made a concerted effort to act as a group while deliberately excluding Steve. 

It felt uncomfortably like mutiny but Natasha had lived her life using the end to justify the means. This was no different.

“Phase One is set to go at 0258Z,” Clint supplied as his knee bumped her thigh. He scratched his fingertips over the meagre beginnings of a beard. They’d be talking about  _that_  later. 

Natasha aimed a soft elbow toward his ribs. “We do this, we do it  _right_.”

“Aye aye, Cap,” Bruce murmured as he clutched a noxious smelling herbal tea. Bruce was a morning person, the  _other guy_  remained unsold on early starts.

“‘ _I’m the Captain now,’”_ Tony muttered from where he sat, feet propped up on the glass tabletop.

“ _Hey!”_ Natasha leaned forward and swept his feet from the table with the back of her hand. “No movie quotes in the Ready Room, we’ve discussed this.” She snapped her fingers to draw his attention. “I need to know you’re committed to this. I need to know we can rely on you to play your role.”

“You’re kidding, right? Phase Four is shitting on my Aubusson as we speak. Don’t get much more committed than  _that,_ ” he griped.

Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose and sent out a prayer for fortitude.

“What about Big Rig?” Tony asked, “He’s not even here and you aren’t hassling him.”

“ _Thor_  knows his part.”

“He better. If this doesn’t get sorted soon…” Tony exhaled and shook is head. “The fate of the free world could be riding on this.”

A few beats passed before Natasha spoke on a sigh. “Tony, hyperboles are also out in the Ready Room. Don’t make me tell you again.”

 

* * *

 

It was shaping up to be a crap-tastic day for so many reasons, the  _least_ being that she was single for yet another Valentine’s Day. Actually, years of conditioning had left her very much down with the prospect spending her evening romancing a Lean Cuisine and a bottle of merlot. What  _did_  manage to bug Darcy was that her love heart patterned tights had already run near her ankle. True, between the tights and the earrings she’d probably overcommitted to the theme but she’d be damned if she’d leave all the cute holiday-themed crap for the loved up. They got gifts and (presumably) hot sex. She got to look cool for the day.

Her morning coffee was a disaster. Her barista, a guy who showed no inclination toward women much less  _her_ , had filled her Venti not with coffee, but with a cup full of shitty candy hearts that spewed sentiments such as ‘You’re a Cutie!’ and ‘Be Mine’. Darcy was far from impressed about the mix-up. Meanwhile, someone’s Valentine had left the coffee shop disappointed.

Darcy tossed the cup into the trash can by her desk as she flopped into her chair and prepared for yet another day of trawling the news and social media for all things Avenger’s related. Half of the legwork was usually done in the silent hours by Jarvis, but even Stark hadn’t been able to emulate the creative leaps of the human mind. #BannerButt and #HulkHiney were still trending. Darcy winced at that and moved the report into her back files. It was a harmless trend and, honestly, how realistic was it to think that Banner’s pants would continually live up to the unique demands that their owner placed on them? That one had been a ticking time bomb from the get-go.

It didn’t take her long to realise that no progress would be made without the aid of caffeine, so she turned in her chair and started to shuffle through her desk draw in search of her favorite mug - a Hammer Industries freebie that wound Tony up on a daily basis. She frowned down at the general detritus that filled the drawer, shoving aside empty pens, no less than six lip glosses and a stress ball shaped like a mini Captain America shield. She flicked the stress ball aside. Today was not the day to continue mentally agonising over hi-

“Lewis?”

“Wha-” her head snapped up as she guiltily scanned the office floor and slammer her drawer shut.

“Darcy Lewis?” The thick Brooklyn accent was distorted, the words muffled by a trolley carting a monstrous arrangement of red roses, peppered with helium balloons and stuffed animals.

 

* * *

 

“I thought we said nothing corny?” Tony complained as he watched the surveillance feed.

“It’s traditional,” Bruce bristled from where he sat, focus still on his laptop… doing  _actual_  work.

“I like it,” Natasha defended. “It makes a statement.”

“Yeah,” Clint whistled between his teeth, “Says you got more money than taste.”

“Tony’s money,” Bruce mumbled as he tapped away at his laptop.

“Even better,” Clint replied as he settled into a chair and kicked his feet up onto the conference table.

 

* * *

 

It seemed to Steve that for one day every February everyone lost their  _damn_  minds. Why else would they allow such a large scale ingress of unchecked packages into the building?! His jaw ticked as he followed a flashy display of romantic sentiment from where the delivery van had double-parked ( _illegally_ ) outside the Tower right on through the lobby, past security, up 43 floors (and that elevator had  _not_  been big enough for him  _and_ the flowers) and right in to the main operations floor.

He didn’t think it was possible to have any more contempt for the delivery until the guy wheeling the trolley called out a name… Steve damn near ground his teeth to dust as he stepped up and gave the bundle a cursory inspection. It didn’t smell off, no trace explosives (though he’d only just been learning how to pick up on those scents). He was quick as he plucked a card from a spray of Baby’s Breath and moved on, looking to all as if he’d just passed slowly behind the arrangement on his way through the office. 

It wasn’t until he was well past the open floor section of the office and out of sight - Darcy’s muted squeal of delight far behind him - that he stopped to look down at the card.

_To Sweetest Darcy,_

_From an Ardent Admirer XOXO_

Something peculiar gurgled in Steve’s guts as he guiltily pocketed the card and he wondered if he wouldn’t have preferred that the bouquet actually  _had_  held hidden explosives…

 

* * *

 

Darcy spent the bulk of the morning working in the shadow cast by her mammoth arrangement of flowers. Her productivity had taken a nose-dive. Mostly because she’d spent so long pondering who could have sent the flowers. She knew who she  _wanted_  them to be from, but then hadn’t he made it perfectly clear - by deed if not word - that it wasn’t going to happen? 

Far too many important things to do to ever go for a cup of coffee… yeah,  _yeah_ , he didn’t need to  _say_  it for her to pick up what he was putting down.

Still, that meant that someone - someone who was  _cashed up_  - was trying to either woo her or was having a joke at her expense. Well,  _their_  expense. The damn thing was  _massive_. Its’ impressive bulk was only countered by the sheer number of helium balloons that sprung forth on golden ribbons. She spotted no less than four full-sized teddy bears hunkered down within more than a hundred red roses. No card though.

That sort of flashiness had Tony written all over it, but he’d calmed down after she’d casually mentioned his memo about Friday being compulsory Henley day in front of Pepper.

Darcy had given up all hope of ever finding out who her secret admirer was and was settling down to plant some positive PR images across a few different Facebook accounts when a throat cleared behind her shoulder. She gave a startled yelp and spun in her chair, blinking up at the two suited behemoths who’d approached her desk unnoticed.

For such massive guys - seriously, as wide as they were tall - they had the stealth thing  _down_. She looked over the expensive cut of their suits, one had tattoos peeking out over his knuckles. The other was missing two fingers. Both had short buzz cuts, both had mangled noses,  _both_ were the sort of men with whom one did not fuck.

“T-Tony is, uh, I actually think he’s out of the building. Can I… take a message?” Because  _of course_  suited thugs would be after Tony. They always were.

Well, sometimes Clint too. Occasionally Wade, but that last time she’d seen him he’d been kicking his own severed hand around the office and Pepper had banned him from the Tower.

“Miz Lewis,” the tattooed dude began, his voice thick with an unidentifiable Eastern European accent. “Our bizniz is vith you.”

Darcy wasn’t entirely sure that she hadn’t wet herself when he’d spoken.

“Me?”

Overwhelmed by their appearance as she had been, she’d failed to notice the slim pink box held in what remained of the hand of her other visitor. He thrust it forward with a grunt. She took the box carefully, it was finished in a glossy pale pink and secured with a black ribbon.

“Who is it from?” she asked as she carefully fingered the bow. Knowing her luck it contained Tony’s fingers as part of some hostage-related deal.

The suits shuffled, but remained stony faced and silent.

“If you told me, you’d have to kill me. Right?” Darcy guessed as she set the box down.

A pained look flashed across her inked visitor as he shook his head once.

“Yeah, yeah,” Darcy sighed, “Lemme guess? You’d never threaten a lady.”

“Correct,” he answered as he plucked at the sleeves of his suit, “But not for reason you tink.”

And on that peculiar note they both nodded and left the office.

It took Darcy nearly five minutes to regulate her heart rate and draw a full breath. The box flashed out of the corner of her eye and curiosity won out as she tugged on one end of the black ribbon.

 

* * *

 

“Tony,” Bruce began in a weary voice. “I thought we said nothing sleazy?”

Tony made an attempt at wide-eyed innocence as he held his palms wide. “Me? You think I…?”

“ _Tony…_ ” Bruce fixed him with an unimpressed glare.

“I swear. I buy lingerie for one woman only.” Tony vowed, then rethinking the statement he continued, “Technically I’m not allowed to do that anymore either. Pepper is picky.”

“Because she prefers her intimates to be inedible and have a crotch?” Natasha queried as she grinned over a platter of pastries and selected a small stuffed croissant. God forbid their machinations go without catering. “It’s from me, Bruce. Not a nipple tassel in sight, I promise.”

 

* * *

 

Steve concentrated very hard on looking casual as he propped one butt-cheek against Darcy’s desk and settled down into a half seated pose.

 _Smooth_ , he thought as he waved a rolled up newspaper in front of her face. “Found an article about… uh, the guy with the… face thing.”

“Taskmaster?” Darcy mumbled as she finished tapping at her keyboard. “Got that last week.”

“You could at least humour me,” Steve sighed as he tossed the newspaper into the trash.

Darcy rolled her eyes as she readjusted her glasses and fixed him with a unimpressed stare. “We both know that you’re too smart to play this dumb, Steve. What is it?” Her voice was flat and held none of her usual humour. Something was eating at her and that didn’t sit well with him.

True, his motives weren’t exactly noble. He’d walked past her desk four times and each time he’d spied that damn pink box with nothing but a deep red garter hanging out from beneath the not-quite-on lid. It was driving him mad and he needed to  _know_  who’d been sending Darcy such personal gifts.

He supposed he should be thankful, he’d been side-stepping her awkward advances for weeks now, throwing himself out of her path like a man diving from a claymore. Another guy on the scene might just take a little of the heat off him. Surely that had to be a good thing… no matter how much he liked Darcy’s heat.

“Was hoping you’d be able to give me a copy of that footage of Tony and the slime-thing?” Steve ventured as he reached out to tap the screen of her laptop, his wrist _just_ managing to upset her coffee mug and the cold dregs within.

He almost felt guilty in the chaos that followed as Darcy pushed her laptop away and got up to make a frantic dash for some paper towel. It was mere seconds work for Steve to knock aside the already precariously situated lid and palm the thick vellum note that was nestled among rose-scented paper and a tantalising (and confusing) jumble of red gossamer lace and silk.

This time he made it to the stairwell before the need to stop and interrogate the note got the better of him.

_To Daring Darcy,_

_From an Ardent Admirer XOXO_

He crushed the expensive paper in his hand before stuffing it back into his pocket alongside the note from her flowers.

 

* * *

 

“Jesus, Tony. Did you have to?” This time Bruce was staring at the telltale tiny pale blue box secured with a white ribbon. “We should have set a price cap.”

“What, like it’s a Secret Santa?” Tony fired back. “Sorry, big fella, but this one ain’t on me either…”

 

* * *

 

Steve didn’t need to hide his interest as two other office regulars, Jessica Drew and Kate Bishop, began to squeal and shout as they moved from Darcy’s desk holding their discovery aloft as though it were a precious jewel. 

Of course, when he caught sight of the small baby blue and white box that the women were parading through the office, he realised that his assessment was more correct than he’d first thought. Even a fossil knew what that kind of box held.

He watched as Darcy’s head snapped up from the printer where she’d been waiting on a few files.

“Darrrrcy!” Jess called across the few desks that separated them. “Look. What. Someone. Left. On Your. Desk!”

In the commotion, Steve casually strolled past Darcy’s desk, not at all surprised to see that the girls had completely missed the small note -  _Ardent Goddamned Admirer._ He pocketed it then calmly strolled over, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets, and watched as Darcy took the box with a nervous grin.

Even Steve’s backpay couldn’t compete with fancy jewels. Not that he was thinkin’ about competing.  _Not at all._

Something gripped his chest, though he tried to remain unaffected, as he watched her open the box. He held his breath as she slowly lifted the lid, her small smile becoming a rich and throaty laugh when she revealed the prize within - a cherry red candy Pop Ring. Darcy’s joyous laugh followed him as he hightailed it from the office, the tightness in his chest no less for the joke that had been revealed.

 

* * *

 

“Wait,” Tony jabbed his half-eaten Canelé toward Clint, “It’s not even  _real_?”

“Darcy’s a funny girl. She gets it,” Clint shrugged.

“So there was never a ring?” Bruce asked.

Clint shrugged and Natasha looked on with a silent smirk as she idly twirled a delicate gold and amethyst ring around her thumb.

 

* * *

 

It had certainly been one of her weirder Valentine’s, Darcy decided as she shuffled things around her desk and eked out some semblance of order at her workspace. She’d pushed her workday out past sundown, hoping to kill what remained of the day and increase her chances of getting a cab after the 5pm rush. Normally she’d have opted for the subway, but her immense bundle of flowers was going to require a coordinated effort just to get it into the elevator. She huffed as she grabbed her satchel from her bottom drawer.

Where was Steve? He’d been prettying up the office for most of the day. Probably just to remind her that she was single and very much  _not_  on his romantic radar. Or that would be the reason if he were petty, like she was. Was she really sulking because a guy didn't want to date her for  _her own safety_?

Yes. Yes, she was. Coffee with Steve Rogers had to be worth Doombots. Steve Rogers- not Captain America - was the guy who’d helped her assemble  _thirty-two_ office chairs when Tony had dumped her on the floor with no job description and - worse - no assembly instructions. Steve Rogers was the guy who occasionally followed her to the subway station,  _just because_. Steve Rogers was the guy who had the body of an Elgin marble, the eyes of a naughty puppy and sensibilities that swung wildly between frat boy at Spring Break and her eighty-year-old neighbour Beryl. She’d been stupid enough to think, for the briefest moment, that the flowers had been from him. But they weren’t in his price-range and he’d made his stance pretty clear on the whole ‘them dating’ thing. You know, with the visibly recoiling when she entered a room. The lingerie wasn’t his style, he’d never presume. Ditto the ring.

Darcy kicked her drawer shut, shouldered her bag and took a few restorative breaths…

… then blinked a few times. Clearly Valentine’s Day was getting the better of her because there was a goddamned  _heart_ floating across her field of vision. 

“What the f-” She dropped her bag and narrowed her eyes as the large heart floated between a bank of tables at the other side of the office. With a calmer head she began to make out a fine ribbon leading behind the tables. The heart - a helium balloon, she realised - was attached to something  _moving._ Darcy, still wary since the Doombeetle incident last October, dropped to her hands and knees and began to stalk the balloon through the empty office.

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t  _concerned_  concerned, he was just concerned. A sudden influx of gifts from an unannounced suitor didn’t sit well with Steve. He pushed aside the fact that any challengers for Darcy’s affections - which he had to reaffirm that he  _did not want_  - didn’t sit well with him.

And, no, he wasn’t going to examine  _why_  that was. Damn, even his internal voice was starting to sound like Nat.

He was loitering around the office after dark  _purely_  because he was worried for her safety. He’d figure out who her  _Ardent Asshole_  was and then vet the guy (or not) and be on his way.

The office was quiet, save for the occasional glugging of the water cooler, and he worried that maybe he’d missed her departure.

He needn’t have worried, second later a feminine gasp shot out from a dim corner of the office and Steve didn’t think twice before hurtling himself across the space, vaulting desks here and there until he came to a stop staring down at what - it had to be said - was one of the more peculiar things he’d ever seen.

Darcy was down on all fours, pert ass up in the air - he paused to give it due appreciation - as she pressed her nose up against the tiniest dachshund that Steve had ever seen. The puppy nudged Darcy cautiously, dancing away when she extended a hand, but calming when she took one of its’ silky ears between her fingertips and massaged it gently.

“Hey, little fella,” she said softly as it pressed its’ nose against hers. Steve’s eyes slipped up the ribbon tied loosely around the dog’s extended middle. He was amazed that the balloon on the other end hadn’t lifted the pocket-sized puppy clear into the air. Darcy’s distraction with the puppy gave him the opportunity to snatch the pink Post-It note from the centre of the balloon.

_Take me home!_

_Your Ardent Admirer XOXO_

Until that point, Steve had been blissfully unaware that it was possible to be jealous of a dog.

“You know dachshunds are German, right?” he said to no one in particular.

Darcy sat back up onto her heels and gathered the puppy to her chest. “If you even think about punching little Bratwurst…”

Steve rolled his eyes at her theatrics. “Bratwurst?” He wasn’t sure what surprised him more, that she’d named the dog already or that she named him  _that._

“German. Sausage. Really, you just gave me the idea.”

“That’s inspired,” Steve noted with a flat voice as he held out his hand and helped her up from the floor.

 

* * *

 

“Tony. No.” At least two different people spoke.

“She lives in a bedsit!” Bruce continued, “It’s a shoebox.”

“It’s a small dog! And Steve’s place is huge.”

“Okay, Tony.” This from Natasha, “The aim was to get them to date, not co-sign a lease.”

“He can live with Lucky and Kate?” Clint offered with a smile, only to drop the grin when he caught the look on Natasha’s face.

“Your dog will eat him, Clint,” she said as she crossed her arms. 

“It’s done now,” Tony said with no small amount of triumph. “Even the green guy ain’t getting that dog away from her.”

 

* * *

 

“Wait, shit, where did he go?!” Darcy was plastered breast-to-chest against Steve in the elevator. The gigantic floral arrangement had taken up the majority of the space and Steve was questioning the sanity in agreeing to help her get the flowers down to a cab. He was also questioning the sanity in denying himself any chance at starting something with Darcy, because damned if she didn’t feel  _perfect_  pressed up against him.

“He’s down by my foot,” he assured her as he watched the panic dance across her lovely face. It amazed him that after just shy of ten minutes she could already be so clearly smitten with the puppy.

“But how do you  _know_?” she demanded.

“Because he’s pissing on my shoe, kid,” Steve replied bluntly. He watched her with a grim smile as she tried - and failed - to stifle a giggle.

“It’s because you called him a ‘Kraut’ when we were getting into the elevator,” she informed him with a wonky grin.

Steve fought to keep his face straight as he shrugged, “You know I seem to remember a time when the boys and I were bunkered down somewhere in the Rhineland. Food was scarce. Had to make do. Dachshund roasts up on a spit  _real_  nice.”

She snorted and smacked at his arm. “Captain America isn’t allowed to lie. It says so on your Wiki.”

“I’m almost certain that’s not on there.”

“If it isn’t,” Darcy teased, “It will be by breakfast tomorrow.”

Her smile tugged at him, made him want to lean down just that little bit and find out if her laugh tasted as good as it sounded. It’d be easy to lose his mind with Darcy, she was whip-smart, dedicated, sexy-as-hell… he wanted to. Wanted to press her against the elevator wall and make her forget all the gifts, all the romance that he hadn’t been brave enough to give her.

The elevator came to a smooth halt and chimed. He realized then that Darcy had been looking up at him with the same silent intent that  _had_  to be written all over his face. Steve cleared his throat, clenched his jaw and slipped his eyes down to one of the roses pressing against his cheek. “Are we getting off?” he asked, his voice a little harder than he’d intended.

He could have sworn he heard her mutter ‘ _apparently not’_  as she slipped down the wall and groped around the floor in search of Bratwurst. She didn’t slow down as she scooped up the puppy and strode silently through the lobby and out onto the curb. Steve called on the reserve of strength that the serum provided to haul the heavy and unwieldy gift along in her wake.

Darcy’s arm was halfway up, about to hail a cab, when Steve grabbed it and pressed it back down to her side. He could hail a cab for her, he thought sourly as he juggled the flowers, even if that was all he’d do for her.

It was a clear night, traffic throbbed and the air smelled a little cleaner than usual. If it had just been Darcy and he, he might have considered taking her home on the bike… of course even that would have been more than he could allow himself to-

But what if he  _did_  allow himself a chance? Just coffee. Maybe a movie.

Of course, maybe he was too late. He watched Darcy out of the side of his eye as she turned Bratwurst onto his back and poked playfully at his pink belly. Maybe her _Ardent Admirer_  had already taken the ground he’d conceded. Maybe he-

A deafening crack split the air and the both snapped their heads back to watch as brilliant tendrils of white light danced high above them, winding through the gap between the buildings towering above them and prettily weaving to form… Darcy’s name. Beside him, Steve could hear Darcy’s gasp of wonder while Bratwurst yapped in confusion.

Her name written in lightning.  _In lightning._

Steve dumped the flowers at his feet with a frustrated growl and threw his arms up. “Come on!” he yelled to no one in particular. “How is a fella supposed to compete with  _that!?_ ” he cried.

A few beats passed as a nervous rhythm played out in his chest. Above them the letters boomed again, rewritten with even more brilliance. But there was Darcy, head tipped to the side as she cupped her puppy’s ears protectively and regarded Steve with exasperation. She didn't even look up.

“Compete?” she asked softly. “For a start, you’d have to throw your hat into the ring, Steve.”

She made it sound  _so easy_. He stepped up to her, hand covering hers over Bratwurst’s head, and leaned in. “I didn’t get you anything for Valentine’s Day,” he noted, as though that one thing would upset her when his behaviour over the past few months hadn’t.

“Then you better be an amazing kisser,” she said as she used her free hand to perch her glasses up into her hair.

“If I’m not?” he asked as he pulled her in with one hand spanning her hip, fingertips brushing the top of her behind.

“It’s going on your Wiki. ‘Captain America: can’t lie, can’t kiss’.”

“Well, then. We can’t have that.”

 

* * *

 

Natasha snatched Tony’s tablet away. 

“I was watching that!”

“Yeah and at first it was cute. Now, it’s voyeurism.”

From his end of the table Bruce began to softly chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Clint asked.

“In about twenty minutes Steve’s going to come up for air and want to know why Thor was sending his girl meteorological love notes.”

“He’s right,” Tony jumped to his feet. “Now would be a good time to go get Yum Cha. You guys want in?”

 


End file.
